


Candlelight

by InvisibleLee



Series: Candlesticks - Septiplier [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Drunkenness, Fluff, Jack - Freeform, M/M, Mark - Freeform, Markiplier - Freeform, Parties, Septiplier - Freeform, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Sweet, Violence, Warehouse Parties, alcohol mention, drug abuse mentions, jacksepticeye - Freeform, slow build up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 06:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9644855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvisibleLee/pseuds/InvisibleLee
Summary: "Hey, uh, Mark?""Yeah?""Um...You can let go now. I'm fine.""I know."But he only tightened his grasp...Note: I don't know what Mark's home looks like for real, and I won't be doing any form of research into it. In the story, it has two floors, both with small living room spaces. It's a fictional home, so keep that in mind. It just helps me to make the story a little easier to follow. Thanks!





	1. The Hotel

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hotels fucking suck](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8119840) by [Em_nerdyfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_nerdyfangirl/pseuds/Em_nerdyfangirl). 



> Septiplier is not real- I am aware of this. This is only fiction! Please enjoy, then, and let me know what you think in the comments!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He would call, and if it hit four rings, he would just hang up. He dialed the number, holding his breath.
> 
> _One ring…_  
>  _Two ring…_  
>  _Thre-_
> 
> “Hello?”

Sean McLoughlin was a chipper kind of guy. He liked to see the positive things in life, the whole glass-half-full sort of perspective. He was the annoying kid on the team who cheered even when they were down twenty points with ten seconds left in the game. And this was generally his mode of thinking, even in some of the worst situatiions. His friends loved him for it - even when they didn't - because he was always full of hope, which had a tendancy to be a contaigious thing.

Except right now.

No, right now, Sean was facing the desk of hotel manager, who was smiling at him as if her life depended on it, as if absolutely fucking  _nothing_ was wrong. And Sean was trying really hard to smile back, he was. It just...got lost in translation? No, really, it just looked like he was grimacing in pain, which, honestly, he totally was. He'd been in America a fair amount of times, but this was by far his worst ever account. He had made the plan a few months ago to visit L.A. to be involved in some collabs and hang with his friends for two whole weeks. He'd done a similar thing before, but this time, the hotel he had booked with had some very interesting news.

Because he has been an hour late to his check-in, they had  _given away_ his room to someone else.

"You have no other rooms?" he asked through tightly clenched teeth. The woman, whose name tag read as Rachel, gave another soul-withering grin that made Sean want to throttle- ahem.

"Nope! I'm super sorry for this whole thing, but it's in our terms- our demand for rooms is really high, so if you're later than half-an-hour, we reserve the right to give your room to someone else." Sean pinched the bridge of his nose, his glasses slipping down as he sighed heavily. He was furious. He had booked the room an entire month in advance, and he couldn't get one hour of slack? It was bullshit. "But, hey, there may be rooms in our sister hotel down by the highway!"

Oh, yes, because he wanted a hotel room even closer to all that racket. He huffed out another breath and hefted his luggae bag over his shoulder again, internally groaning at the pain that seared through his arm. He'd pulled a muscle earlier doing this same thing, and it protested against it now, though he ignored it.

"Well, then, thanks," he said curtly, turning on his heel and stalking away from the desk in irritation. He had nowhere to go, either, no car or cab to take him somewhere, no idea where else he could stay at that wouldn’t decimate his chances of sleeping tonight. He lingered awkwardly by the front entrance, uncertain of what he could do. He was sure the desk lady was looking at him, wondering why he was still there, but with nowhere to go, he had no other choice.

There was a plethra of hotels around he could choose from, he knew, but they weren’t familiar to him, and he’d still have to call a cab of some kind, or catch a bus, although whether a bus would run at eleven at night, he had no clue. But this was Los Angeles, after all- he was sure he could find a way somewhere. Maybe even a park bench, if necessary. That idea appealed very little to him, but he had to admit that if it came down to it, he would be willing to ride out one night on a plank of wood. He would hate it, but he would live through it.

Of course, there was also the option of calling upon a friend in the area. He knew he had a couple options of people to choose from- they were all kind enough to let him crash for his two weeks, but at the same time, most of them he knew only slightly better than a neighbor, and it made him hesitate. He didn’t want to impose upon anyone, especially if he was staying two weeks rather than maybe a few days. A few days, he wouldn’t feel even slightly bad in asking to room with someone. But two weeks was a long time to host someone in your house, especially temporarily, and he had no desire to ruin a friendship that was already barely forming. Not to mention the fact that he hadn’t told a single person, friend or fan, that he would be in the area, so suddenly calling upon someone for a housing situatiion was even less appealing.

_But what else could he do?_

Trying to find an alternative, he finally decided to take the five-minute walk down to the bus stop. It would run until one, he found out thanks to his handy-dandy smartphone. He could catch that bus and follow its route along the map. A few motels dotted along the way, and one major hotel that he recognised a little by name. He had never stayed at this particular branch, but maybe it would be worth it? Their prices were higher than the motels, though, even higher than the place he’d just left…

The reviews of the motels weren’t very promising, either. They were either dirty and unkempt, lacking in customer service, or just an overall bad experience with uncomfortable beds, chairs, and malfunctioning electricity and internet- not something Sean could afford right now. He cursed his luck as he stood waiting by the busy street. His feet scuffed the sidewalk he stood on, and he looked out along the traffic-ridden road with a grimace. He couldn’t see the bus, either- it must have been running late, or he was following the wrong schedule. _Wonderful_.

The only option he could see that didn’t involve bothering friends was to catch this bus, take it down to the transit center, transfer to another bus, and take that down to the Holiday Inn on the other side of town- the sister hotel that was by the highway.

After a rough ten minutes of waiting - and realising that he had indeed been looking off the wong schedule - Sean spotted the bus rolling down the road towards his stop. He let out a sigh of relief, digging around for his precious smallwad of American currency, pulling out a few bills to cover his fare and a transfer. The bus crawled to a stop, and the doors creaked open to reveal a middle-aged man with a permanent scowl, snapping at him to hurry up. He nearly dropped some of the money before he slid it into the machine slot and grabbed his day-pass, turning to see the bus full of passengers, only a few single seats open, inconveniently to be squeezed in between two people. Sean picked the one he thought would cause the least amount of discomfort and sat down, feeling very self-conscious and claustrophobic.

The ride to the transit center was terrible. He had seemed to have picked the most inconvenient seat possible for himself- two screaming children on one side, and an older man who rattled on and on about how he wasn’t rascist at all, but wouldn’t it be better if the Mexicans stopped flooding in?

_Americans are ridiculous_.

The traffic was bad, the drivers yelled, even at the bus. It seemed the night was full of drunks, the bus passengers exchanging from mildly tipsy to completely plastered as the route continued. By the time Sean made it to the center, he smelled of alcohol, as if he’d downed a bottle himself, just from the persisten fumes that lingered in that bus.

He breathed lungfuls of fresh air as soon as he stepped onto the sidewalk, staying as far from the other people milling around and waiting for their buses. He honestly could not think of a worse way to spend the next forty-five minutes of his life, and as he browsed through his text messages after a random one from his cell-phone company that was alerting him to his low data, he spotted his conversation with Mark Fischbach, and he felt a spark of hope.

He tried to smother it, but he couldn’t do it quite so easily. Mark was a kind-hearted fellow, one of his popular collaborators, and maybe it would do him some good to ask him for some help. They were better friends, he thought. Of course, it was almost midnight, so maybe it would be better to wait until tomorrow...he could risk the next bus ride, probably…

He grimaced at the thought of it and ran a pale hand through his green-and-brown hair. Sighing once more, he hesitated. He hummed lightly to himself, peering around at the people wandering, and he decided, yes, he would call Mark because fuck riding around these drunken idiot until one in the morning.

He would call, and if it hit four rings, he would just hang up. He dialed the number for Mark, holding his breath.

_One ring…_  
_Two ring…_  
_Thre-_

“Hello?”

For a moment, Sean was so caught off guard by the sound of a sleep-ragged voice, deep and hoarse, that he didn’t speak, until Mark repeated his one-word greeting with some level of irritation, causing Sean to frown with his guilt. He’d clearly woken the other.

“H-Hey, Mark, did I wake you up?”

"Oh, Jack, it’s you. Yeah, but it’s alright. Something wrong?” He was concerned, clearly, and Sean felt another twinge of guilt shoot through him. He hadn't intended to worry Mark, and yet he was doing just that.

"Um, no, not really...It's just..." Sean trailed off a little at the end, hesitating again with his request. But Mark was more awake now, and the silence irritated him just a little.

"Just what?"

"Just...I'm in the Los Angeles area right now but my hotel fucked me over, and I don't have a place to stay, so I was wondering if maybe you..." He trailed off again, but Mark didn't need the whole thing to grasp the situation; there was a thud and curse word from the other end, and then Mark huffed.

"Why didn't you tell me you'd be coming down? You should've called the moment you got on the flight- I'd have met you at the airport. Of course you can stay- where are you?"

"The main bus station."

"You were going to take the bus? Oh, no, Jack, don't ever do that. That shit _sucks_. I'll be there in, like, ten minutes, okay? Wait for me outside. I'll honk."

Sean nodded without thinking, chuckling when he realised it and then confirming what Mark asked. "I'll be here. Thanks."  
"Don't mention it. Give me a few."

The line went dead as Mark hung up, and Sean found he was warm even in the cold night's air.

* * *

 

Mark arrived exactly when he promised, honking obnoxiously about twenty feet from Sean, making the Irishman jump about a foot and a half in the air in fright. Scowling, Sean clambered into the car's passenger seat to see a grinning Mark holding out a cup.

"Here- hot chocolate. Thought you'd be a little cold. It _is_ January, after all." Sean felt his irritation slip away as he took the cup from the other happily, reveling in the warmth that radiated from the cardboard container.

"Thanks."

"Again- don't mention it. So when were you going to tell me you were here?" Mark asked immediately as he pulled off onto the main road, suppressing a light yawn.

"Um...tomorrow morning, according to my schedule," Sean replied, only half teasing. "It was _supposed_ to be a surprise, but then the hotel gave my room away."

"Gave it away? Damn, that's some bull."

"That's what I said. But the manager, oh my God..."

The ride to Mark's place was pleasant, and Sean told of his long flight, the yelling and touchy flight neighbors, and the hotel manager who smiled like she was permanently paralyzed like that.

Upon arriving, Mark led Sean up to the door and flung it open, gesturing for Sean to enter first.

"I haven't cleaned or anything, so pardon the mess. I've got food if you're hungry, drink if you're thirsty, and beds if you're tired."

Sean chuckled even as he yawned, "Definitely tired." Mark grinned.

"Spare bed it is, then. Follow me."

The two wandered through the house as Mark pointed out the individual rooms, like the bath, the closet, and the laundry room. At the end of one hall was the small, cozy bedroom that was to be Sean's.

"So you can stay here as long as you need, alright?"

"Is...two weeks okay?" Sean asked as he peered around the standard guest room a moment, hesitant.

"Of course! Now, my room is just down here and to the left- need anything, just wake me, alright?" Sean nodded, distracted by the room he had been presented with. Mark smiled and headed down the hall. "Good night, Jack-a-boy."

Sean sat his luggage down on the floor and laid out on the soft, new-smelling bed, let his eyes droop, and he fell asleep with a _thank-you_ on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. I got this idea from seeing some random titled story here called "Hotels fucking suck" and the whole idea spawned from just the title haha. Let me know what you guys think- and as a random bonus, answer this question for me-  
> Do you like sequels?


	2. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jack, what the fuck?"  
> "I didn't mean to!"  
> "You spilled syrup literally everywhere!"  
> "Don't fuckin' yell at me, you bastard."  
> Mark only chuckled.  
> "You're adorable when you pout- just grab some towels, we can clean it up."

* * *

The morning came with a crash to Sean, and a shout about as loud as a symbal.

“ _Jack! Get up!_ ” Sean shot upright from the bed, still clothed from yesterday and sweating profusely because of it. His gaze darted around to find the culprit of the loud noise, and when he saw it was Mark, he flopped back down onto the covers with a groan.

“ _What_ , Mark?” he mumbled. But this was a mistake, because in response, Mark grasped the corner of the pillow that his head was on and yanked it away. “Hey!” He glared up at the red-haired man who only smirked.

“I told you- _get up_!” He dropped the pillow back onto Sean’s face with a laugh, and Sean groaned.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever. Bastard.”

“You have five minutes to get your Irish ass into the kitchen. We’re having pancakes!” Mark left the room then, and Sean smarted up at the mention of pancakes, stomach growling. He had opted out of the airline’s food yesterday and hadn’t eaten before falling asleep, so he was ravenous for anything edible. And pancakes sounded very, _very_ edible right now.

Quickly digging through his bag, he withdrew a sweater and new jeans, swapping out his old clothes for the fresh ones, dressing in record time. He peered into one of the hall doors, pleased to find that the first one was the bathroom. He peeked in for a quick face-wash and hair-comb, and then he darted into the kitchen.

The room was nice and spacey, and Sean was all-too ready to dig into some fluffy, sweet pancakes...only to find Mark handing him a carton of eggs and asking him to get the whisk from the second drawer over that direction. Startled, he looked over the counters and saw every ingredient necessary to make pancakes all laid out.

“Wait, you mean I have _make_ my pancakes?” he said with a tilt to his voice, high pitched and whiny and very surprised. He had, for some reason, expected to find already-made pancakes awaiting him, so he could splash some syrup, spread some butter, sprinkle some powdered sugar and devour.

“Yes, you have to _make_ them. Now bring me the whisk. And quickly.” Mark was measuring out sugar and baking soda, one hand stretched out to grab the whisk. “This batter is mine,” he added when he was handed his utinsel. “You make yours.” Sean huffed.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a _good_ host?” he mumbled.

“Only with strangers or new friends- you’re not either of those, so you make your own damn pancake mix.” He grinned at Sean, handing him the rest of the ingredients for the food that Sean had no idea what to do for. He stared down at the armful of stuff, sighed, and decided, _fuck it,_ he would just wing it and hope it turned out okay.

Flour, baking soda, egg, sugar… Sean hesitated with each ingredient he added, having no idea how portion or anything. In hindsight, he could have looked up a recipe, but he had left his phone in the room in his rush to get ready and was much too proud to go fetch the device.

Mark finished his batter and had made two pancakes for himself by the time Sean made it to the griddle, which Mark gestured was for Sean’s use as he moved to an open counter to eat. He watched Sean with interest as the Irishman hesitated with the heat setting and pouring the batter. Sean struggled to flip his pancakes, and by the end, he simply had a sizable lump of pancake-like-something on a paper plate. Mark laughed at the attempt, causing Sean to scowl.

“Shut the fuck up, Mark,” he said with a slight smile. “I’ve never made pancakes from scratch, you shit.”

Mark rolled his eyes, “Well, get used to it, m’dear, because I’m not cooking you breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” He smirked at the other, who merely groaned. He reached for the syrup, only to see he was holding a nearly empty bottle. Tossing it at Mark, he failed to notice the partially-unscrewed lid, and the bottle hit the ground and spilled over the tile of the kitchen floor in a surprisingly-quickly-expanding puddle of thick syrup.

"Jack, what the fuck?"

"I didn't mean to!"

"You spilled syrup _literally_ everywhere!"

"Don't fuckin' yell at me, you bastard."

Mark only chuckled as Jack pushed out his lips in a whiny pout, the Irishman clearly embarrassed.

"You're adorable when you pout- just grab some towels, we can clean it up." Sean huffed at him, moving to the closet that Mark had pointed to in the hall, taking a few dark-colored towels to avoid destroying the fluffy white ones. Of course, he would find a way to make his first day at Mark’s the absolute most annoying one he could. He sighed heavily as he returned to Mark's side, holding out a towel.

"Sorry," he mumbled in some embarrassment, to which Mark only shoved him playfully.

"It's totally fine, Jack. I'm only teasing you." The lighthearted tone of his words seemed to set Sean at ease, and he worked with Mark to quickly clean up his mess, the syrup making a huge, sticky puddle. A mop to the floor cleaned that up easily, and Mark considered the whole ordeal as totally fine and not at all a problem, despite Sean's further attempts at apologising. Finally, Sean agreed to put the event in the past, settling with Mark on the couch in the living room instead.

"So, two weeks, huh? You were gonna tell me today?" Mark said immediately, pulling his legs up beneath him casually. Chica ambled up to sniff at Sean before settling near Mark on the floor.

"Yup. I wanted to surprise everyone and hang out, but I guess that's out of the question now, huh?" Sean laughed a little. Mark gave a shrug.

“You’re not allowed to keep secrets from me, Jack-a-boy.” He grinned at the other in good humor. “But why the hell wouldn’t you just call me or someone to stay with?”

“I mean- that ruins the surprise.”

“Maybe so, but hotels are expensive. We’re friends- next time, don’t hesitate, alright? I don’t wanna have to pick you up from a bus stop at midnight again.” Sean had to laugh at that.

“Alright, fair enough- I didn’t like the idea of calling you so late, either. I knew you’d be sleeping.”

“Sleeping or not, call me when you need me, okay?”

“Right.”

“Now, what say you we go out shopping? I need more groceries, and you can get whatever you might need, too, while we’re out.”

“I don’t need-”

“We’re going!”

Without giving the Irishman any room to argue, Mark grasped Sean’s wrist and yanked him over to the door, pulling keys down from a hook as he went.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided a chapter of domestics would be nice before I really delve into the plotline. Sorry for filler, but at the same time, it's building the relationship well, so I'm not too sorry haha.  
> Let me know what you think in a comment and a late Happy Valentine's Day to those of you who've already celebrated!  
> I said I'd update in three days last time, huh? Let me make that four. In four days, I'll update again, okay? Okay.


	3. Made Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jack? Where the hell are you, I’m out front!”  
> “O-oh, sorry! I’ll check out in a second and be right out.”  
> “Did you get lost? I can come in and help you…?”  
> “N-no, it’s fine! I found them, I just have to pay.”  
> “If you’re sure. I’ve got my blinkers on.”  
> “Alright.”

The Walmart was not exactly what Sean expected to be dragged along to see. He had thought maybe Mark would take him somewhere local, but it seemed even he had to settle for big franchises. Sean had been to a Walmart before, of course, he wasn’t that inexperienced with shopping. 

The Walmart was packed, and only slightly more uncomfortable than any other crowd situation, because it seemed like quite a few people just  _ knew _ who he was. Granted, they were left alone, mostly probably because many fans had seen their fill of Mark for the fact that he’d lived there awhile, even if Jack was a new sight. But that fact didn’t really help at all, because he  _ knew _ people were looking at him. He stuck close to Mark, who raised an eyebrow at him in confusion when he noticed the other’s nervousness.

“They’re staring,” Sean replied defensively, to which Mark chuckled.

“Don’t you get stared at in Ireland, too?”

“I don’t go out all that much, and honestly, not really, even when I do.”

“Lucky you.” 

Sean had to wonder if he noted sarcasm, or if that tone reflected something more…

“Come on, we’ve got shopping to do!” Mark said, distracting Sean’s train of thought entirely.  The two went on their adventure through the store, picking up bread, and other essentials, as well as some extras that weren’t strictly needed, like icecreams and donuts and other such little treats.

On the way out, though, Mark decided it would be best if he went to pick up the car and bring it around to the front of the store, because Sean had made a last minute decision to purchase a new mouse for his laptop, since the old one had been somewhat damaged during his travels. As Sean lingered around the electronics section, peering at the different brands, a low conversation reached his ears.

“...with the green hair?” 

Sean tensed up - he had already looked around at the people near him, and he knew they were speaking of himself. It sent a shiver down his spine.  

“Yeah, he’s  _ weird. _ He came in with that one guy, didn’t he?”

Sean swallowed against his anxieties; they probably wouldn’t even do anything. Most people were to cowardly or afraid to act on this sort of thing. But it didn’t change the tenseness in his shoulders and his posture. He looked on at the mice with an uneasy mind, reaching forwardly mindlessly to pick up one of them, turning it over in his hands. He knew they were still there- they were still  _ talking about him _ . It made him so uncomfortable. Why couldn’t they just stop? Talking about how he was weird for his green hair, and who he must be, and how it was weird for him to be there, and-

_ Bzzt! Bzzzzt! _

Fumbling with his phone for a moment, he answered the call quickly, hoping to distract himself from the people behind him. 

“Ah, hello?”  
  
“Jack? Where the hell are you, I’m out front!”

“O-oh, sorry! I’ll check out in a second and be right out.”

“Did you get lost? I can come in and help you…?”

“N-no, it’s fine! I found them, I just have to pay.”

“If you’re sure. I’ve got my blinkers on.”

“Alright.”

He hung up, and he let out a measured sigh, peeking around. The group of men were gone, and he stood, legs aching from having been crouched down for too long. Stretching, he picked out one of the mice and headed to check out.

He climbed into the passenger seat beside Mark with ease, who looked at him oddly.

“What took so long?” he asked as he pulled away, eyes on the road.

“Nothing,” Sean lied easily. “I just got caught up talking.” Mark seemed to relax.

“Replacing me already?”

“You know it.”


	4. They're Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You bastard - you knew what I thought!"  
> "Whatever do you mean, Jack?"  
> "You knew-"

Returning to Mark’s home, Sean took note of the screen door that had been left ajar. For a moment, it was insignificant, as he climbed out of the car and stood, stretching slightly in the surprisingly warm daylight. Then Sean had a flash of memory as he recalled that Mark had closed and locked both doors to the house. Mark was chattering without being listened to as he approached the door, laden with his bags. Sean hesitated, and then he called out.

“Hey, uh, didn’t you  _ lock _ that door?”

Mark was already halfway inside, holding the door further open to slip inside with his goods. He frowned, brows drawing together. His gaze flitted over to his car, parked before the garage, and then he quirked his lips up into a thoughtful smile.

“I did, didn’t I?” he mused. “Well, come on, then. The ice cream’ll melt.” He said it all so simply, casually, as if there was no concern, no danger, no worry. Sean felt uneasy, but he followed his friend to the door, slipping into the cooler air of the house.

For some reason, the place felt oddly uncomfortable, as if the whole structure had been thrust into some eerie realm that had been absent before.  Sean could hear Mark as if the volume of his voice was up way too loud, and the other’s voice echoed about the house, making him cringe. He wanted to warn against the loudness of it, wanted to shout out that Mark needed to  _ shut up, _ to listen for the intruders he was so sure lurked about. The casual way that Mark moved, put away groceries, chattered recklessly, all had Sean on edge. He kept looking around, thinking every glinting object to be a betrayal of some stranger’s movement. Mark didn’t seem to sense the Irishman’s nervousness, or else, he ignored it altogether.

As Sean went to speak up, Mark turned to head up the stairs.  He beckoned Sean to follow suit, and though instinct told him not to do it, he found himself slogging up after the man. His breath was caught in his throat with anxiety. But up the stairs Mark went, oblivious. Dread was all that Sean could feel as he drug his feet up after his friend. It hung over him as despair might, or as an insect drawn to water. Mark cleared the landing and disappeared from sight, causing Sean to hesitate. He heard moving from above, and, clenching his jaw, he bounded upstairs in a slight fit of panic –

Only to see Ethan and Tyler lounging about, while Mark pet Chica. It seemed suddenly very foolish to Sean that he had even been worried. Of course Mark had been entirely at ease – he knew who was in the house, and, with that thought, he turned a heavy scowl to Mark, who grinned at him.

“You bastard – you knew what I thought!”

“Whatever do you mean, Jack?” Mark responded, feigning innocence all-too obviously. His eyelids fluttered with his facade.

“You knew–” He cut off his own statement, knowing that neither Ethan nor Tyler knew anything

of what he was saying, and were just now rising to greet him. With a final huff at a triumphant-looking Mark, Sean turned to a friendlier gaze on his two less mischievous friends of Los Angeles. Ethan had been met only recently, but Sean knew Tyler slightly better through word of mouth. He embraced both men nonetheless, as was his way, giving each a hearty thump on the back. The pure familiarity and easiness of it all pushed back his ill mood and had him grinning. 

He was easy, Mark thought with a small smile.  So easy to distract and please. The glare he should have continued to receive from his friend was instead a gaze of eagerness. He chuckled at the mood-flip.

“So, I assume you asked them here specifically?” Sean asked, cluing in quickly.

“Of course. Wouldn’t be that much fun with just the two of us.”

“So...what first?”

It was Ethan who grinned, and he who answered as well, in a tone that gave it a dramatic flare that Sean found highly unnecessary but very amusing. “Since the dawn of time, or, rather, more like the seventeenth century, it has been customary for men such as ourselves, of boon companionship to undergo trials of competition to win a trophy, to polish the ego, and to boost the ties of friendship. And we could think of no better a trial than that of the–”

“Monopoly.” Ethan gave a glare. “Sorry, but I think you lost Jack at  _ boon. _ ” Sean gave a slight nod to confirm the statement. 

“Monopoly is said to be a homewrecker. So we ought to test it out. Besides,” Mark added, “nothing beats a classic board game.” Sean nodded, grinning; he loved the classics, as Mark had said, and he had never lost the soft spot he had for the economistic one.

They set up at the table in the living room on the first floor, the spacier of the two. Tyler sat on the couch, the others on the floor to line up appropriately with their sides of the board. Mark picked the dog, Ethan the car, Tyler the boat, and Sean the top hat. Each piece gave the impression of coming from separate game sets, the layer of lustre different per piece. Money was handed out and roles were picked. Ethan first, the Sean, Tyler, and Mark.

The strategy of the game, Sean knew, was simple. The best approach that he had found was to buy whatever he could and haggle for the rest.

Ethan was the first to fall, due to his constant bad luck of landing not only on owned properties, but also condemning chance and community chest cards. The income tax was his killing blow.

Tyler was next to drop off, due to his lack of money management as he tried to buy all of Ethan’s up-for-grabs properties.

It became a battle between Mark and Sean. Mark had the Browns, the Reds, and the Greens, as well as the Utilities. But Sean had the upperhand, holding the Purples and the Pale Blues hostage, and owning the Oranges, the Yellows, and the Dark Blues. The Railroads were his, too. Neither would risk a trade.

And Mark was dumbfounded when, three hours of gameplay later, he lost. Sean helped pack away the game triumphantly, pleased.

“How?”

“It’s always the Railroads. You traded Mediterranean for Reading, thinking you got the better deal. I also got two hundred out of you because you didn’t know the real value of the trade.” Sean grinned as Ethan and Tyler looked on enviously. “You either have a wall of death, or control the Railroads. And the Oranges– they pay a pretty penny.” He laughed at the frustration he read in Mark’s face. “Don’t fuss now. It’s unattractive.”

Mark muttered something under his breath as Sean tucked the box away. It sounded and awful lot like,  _ I’ll show you unattractive. _

It made him snicker gleefully. Already, this place felt more comfortable, warm, welcoming. He was a fan of houses that felt like  _ home _ , and safe,  not because of architecture or security systems, but because of the  _ people _ who lived in them.

This, he decided, was exactly that.

By this point, it was close enough to lunch that Mark ordered a few pizzas for them, and Ethan pulled out his phone to record a vlog.

“Hey guys! Look what the Mark dragged in!” He flipped the phone to capture Sean in the frame, who threw his arms up, calling, “No paparazzi!” This resulted in what they dubbed a Vlog War, even as the pizza delivered almost half of an hour later. It was how friends worked – they passed time as if in flight, quickly and pleasantly in first class with a slice of cake on the side. They were famished and ate silently, ill-mannered, fighting companionably.

That was how they worked. It might have been odd, how at ease Sean was, if it hadn’t felt so damned  _ natural _ .

He’d all but forgotten the incident that had set him on edge earlier that morning. 

Mark got Sean set up in a small area of his home so he could record, and he was glad that he wouldn’t have the same volume restraint as the hotel he’d originally booked.

The rest of the day passed through relatively quickly, and the group of friends even recorded a few short games of Cards Against Humanity for their respective channels. There was a brief idea of having a fan meet-up in the city, but there were no certainties on the thought. There was wonderance of required permits for the type of crowd it may draw their way, but they kept the idea on the backburner.

Closer to six, Tyler made an announcement. 

“We should go to a party.” It was odd to hear this statement, and the other three turned their intrigued gazes to the brunette. “It’s supposed to be  _ maybe _ thirty people. And we know the host, Mark. Sounds as good a celebration of Jack’s arrival as any.” Ethan was quick to agree, saw no harm in a small party; more of a get-together, really. Sort of a private school class reunion. 

Mark gave it some thought and then turned to Sean, “It’s up to you. If you go, I’ll go, since I’m your ride anyway. Automatic designated driver, after all.” He grinned to show that it didn’t bother him in the least.

It was way more fun to see his friends get drunk, he’d learned, when he alone remained sober. Too much fun to pass up.

Sean hummed slightly in thought, glancing about absently. Then he gave a slight shrug. “Why the hell not?” The worst that could happen, in his opinion, was tomorrow’s possible hangover, after all. And even  _ that _ wouldn’t be too bad. “When is it?”

Tyler was shrugging on his jacket. “Right now, actually. It’s casual. And roughly only ten minutes away. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, long time no see! A whole month of no updates whoops. I have another chapter already hand-written, so I'm typing it up tomorrow to queue it up to be posted next week!
> 
> Side note - my birthday is on the 18th of this month. Three days! Woot!


	5. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Say, Jack. Why don't you hang out with us for awhile?"  
> "My friends're looking for me."  
> "Aw, come on. It'll be fun."  
> "Well..."

Sean had never really been to a warehouse party before. At least, not the American kind, he thought. He had been to a few high school type parties, with underage alcohol and all of that, and underage smoking and teen sex. But he had never before been thrown into a cramped storage warehouse with forty other people and a DJ blasting requests, speakers blowing out his ear drums, strangers grinding practically everywhere, and everyone drunk off of their ass.

Bars were not his thing. Neither were clubs. A nice little pub, yes. A local bartender with familiar, regular face is watching sports. Very little PDA, no public sex.

Sean decided very quickly that warehouse parties, like bars and clubs, were not his thing either.

It was odd to see that his friends were at ease here, and upon seeing this, decided he would put up with it as long as he could; thus, he plastered a grin on his face.

He could act.

Mark introduced him to a tall man, sharp and pristine. He was a redhead, but it was more of a hint of red then overpowering. Smokey green eyes peered over him, and he felt the odd sensation that he was being appraised, like something up for auction. He worked to keep his smile from altering, a more difficult feat than he had expected. He wanted to squirm under the dissecting gaze, but he did not.

He shook hands with him, and nearly shuddered at the strength of the man's grip, as if it forewarned against him.

“Welcome to the city, Sean,” he said, in an amused tone. Prescott would have been a name that suited his snooty behavior, but Evan was it. Evan Channing. Evan smiled, and Sean knew it held warm, but a cold anxiety seized his heart, instead. “And the party. We hope you'll stay awhile at both.” With a party farewell to the group, Evan headed off through the crowd.

By the time Sean moved his gaze from the retreating figure, Tyler and Ethan had disappeared. Mark turned his eyes to Sean's someone called out his name. “Are you gonna to be alright alone?” he asked hopefully, and he merely nodded, his smile back in place. The confirmation he gave was far from true, but he gave it nonetheless. It had never quite mattered much to him when it came to this sort of thing, he reflected as Mark headed off. He would make do, as he always did, no big deal.

Alone.

Sean picked his way through the clumps of people slowly. It was a sad little word, that one. He knew a lot about it. He knew how disinterested it could make one seem. He knew it set on a longing, an ache, a desperation. But to be alone was not always so sad, so depressive. Showering alone, sleeping alone, running alone. Things he usually did without other people.

Maybe sleeping could be depressive. But he had made his point.

It was at these sorts of functions, though, that he hated being alone, even if he let a smile dominate his expression, even if he leaned casually against the doorway and maintain small talk with a group of strangers. He didn't know a single person here, did not like the music, had no taste for whatever drinks were being offered. He was fully aware that he was being sized up by many in attendance, and he made it a point to keep his gaze away from other eyes as he went along, still smiling. Still pretending.

He did not realize that he had made his way to the makeshift bar until he slid into one of the seven mismatched stools. The bartender was young, maybe in his mid twenties, with a gaze that held friendliness and hair the color of the sun. He gave Sean an easy smile.

“Pick your pick your poison.”

“Got any fireball?”

“I'm sure we do. Haven't seen you around here before.”

Sean shrugged, visiting Sean shrugged, “Visiting for a couple weeks. I'm Sean, or Jack if you prefer.”

“Mm. You came with Mark, didn't you?”

“How did you know?” The man only grinned.

“Word gets around.” He poured a dark whiskey into a diamond cut glass and slid it across to Sean. “Hope you like neat?”

“Enough. Thanks.”

“Jared.”

“Right.”

He relished the feel of the whiskey slipping down his throat, burning all the way down. The cinnamon, he noted, gave it the extra kick he enjoyed. He nodded to the bartender, placed a crisp, ten-dollar bill on the table under his glass, and pushed his way through the crowd.

It was, he admitted, a little unsettling that someone he did not know at all knew who he had come with. It sent a chill over the back of his neck. He gathered himself, though; it was no use worrying over something so trivial. Millions of people knew his name and much more, he assured himself.

Up ahead, he could see a door, and he set his sights on it. It was an annoyance that the number of people kept growing. It was hot, stuffy, and he wanted to breathe fresh air. No one paid him any mind as he shoved the door open.

The night was cool, and disappointingly bright. A glance up at the sky had him wishing for the stars. He was surprised it was so late. But then, he had never been that great at tracking time and, after all, it was January. He closed his eyes, revelling in the biting chill of the night. The air was sharp with it, and it was quick to clear his head.

Quick to soothe his slight panic, too, when he looked to the left and spotted Evan Channing standing off to the side, conversing softly with two other men. He watched them quietly, trying indiscreetly to listen in. He wasn't trying to be an asshole by any means- just curious. But he drew the gaze of the redhead, and the sharp man straightened up, looking at the other two meaningfully. Sean rose from his leaning posture as Evan approached.

“Sean, leaving so soon?” he asked, gaze following the men who slipped back inside. There was a pleasant smile on his face. Sean mirrored it.

‘Of course not. Just need some air, you know?”

“It can get crowded, sure.”

“I don't know how you people stand it.”

Stand what? Amusement crossed Evans expression.

“These parties. They're not my cup of tea, honestly.”

“You prefer the smaller crowd, the familiar kind.” He didn't like that Evan said it as a statement, as casual as if Sean had told him once over a beer. He just nodded. “Yes, that would explain it.”

“Explain what?”

But Evan merely placed a hand on Sean's shoulder, as if to convey some meaning to him.

“Don't stay out too long, Sean. Your friends will worry.” He smiled at the frown he received. “They are looking for you.” Squeezing Sean's shoulder lightly, he stepped inside to leave Sean, once again, alone.

He breathed easier as the door swung shut, releasing his tension in one long, pent-up huff. He did not like the way he felt so little when that man was around, like a lesser being, somehow.

And what was it that Evan knew that he wouldn't share with Sean?

With the shake of his head, he dispelled his worries. No use fretting over someone he wouldn't likely see again. He took a few minutes to draw in the fresh air, as if he was hoarding it for when he went back inside.

When he finally did, the crowd had thickened once again, and he took in a breath as preparation. He just wanted to find Mark and Tyler, and Ethan, and get out of here. This was not where he wanted to be. But as he walked through the throngs, he worried that he wouldn't find any of them, wandering like this. He couldn't tell which end of the warehouse was the one he’d come in, and the only other door was the one he just entered through, and it was just as far as the others. Feeling a little claustrophobic, he pushed his way back over to the bar. Jared greeted him easily and slid some fireball his way.

“On the house,” Jared added when Sean shook his head. Nodding his head in a thank-you gesture, Sean sipped on it, gazing about for his friends. As he rested, he noted the two men from outside approaching the bar, and he nodded slightly at the discreet glance that Jared shot him. Yes, he knew who they were. Some small talk with the barman had told him Evan was no harm, really, but his two loyal followers where handful and a half. He wasn't sure what to make of them, so he were made where he was, listening.

“Hey Jared. Could I get some brandy, neat?”

“Whiskey on the rocks for me.”

“Got it. Sure you don't want any ice, Rob?”

“I'm sure.”

“How's the wife, Sam?”

“Ha. Divorced now.”

“Guess that explains the whiskey, huh?”

“Sure does.”

“Still single, Rob?”

“You know it.”

The two clinked glasses in a friendly toast, and Sean couldn't quite imagine how they would be any trouble, with talk like that. He listened to the three men chatter companionably, learning that Jared had an old nickname of JJ, and that Sam and Robert were identical twins, except that Sam had shaved off his curly black hair.

Sean slid over to the next chair beside them to refill his own drink, feeling suitably buzzed so that has nerves didn't keep him from a pleasant greeting.

“You’re the green-haired guy from before, huh?” Sam said as Jared filled Sean's cup.

“That would be me. Sean. Jack. Whichever.”

“Jack, then,” Rob said, sending a glance to Sam that Sean missed. He thought he heard someone call for him…

“Say, Jack,” Sam said, gaining his attention. “Why don't you hang out with us for awhile?” Sean tipped back the last of the third fireball, feeling relatively clouded in the whole _mind_ area.

“I would, but, uh, I think my friends are looking for me.”

“Aw, come on. It'll be fun.”

Sean didn't notice how tightly his arms were a grip to buy the other two. They listed him out of the chair.

“Well…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday today! So I figured I'd update my two stories today to celebrate! Chapter Five for Candlelight and Chapter Two for Broken Monotony (it's an Undertale thing). 
> 
> I haven't even brainstormed the whole of the next chapter yet, so it'll be a couple weeks until the next one.


	6. Update- Hiatus/Ko-Fi/Etc.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some stuff happened IRL for the Author- will she prevail?

Hey guys. Glitch here with a long overdue update. 

First, I want to thank everyone majorly for getting this work to over a thousand hits! That's amazing and by far the most hits I've ever received on something I've written, and I'm hella flattered. I hope you guys have enjoyed what I've written so far.

Second, sadly, this story is/has been on hiatus for some time. It's an unfortunate occurrance, but between working at my job and working on the Septiplier Game I'm making and leading, it's a lot of work. 

However! This hiatus will be ending very soon! I've switched to morning shifts at work which means I won't be sleeping away my whole morning before night shift, and since I can't sleep after work during morning shift (no matter how tired I am), this means that I should have another chapter done in about a week! As soon as that's done, I should be able to keep up with posting chapters somewhat regularly.

My final point is more an update on me, myself. I've moved into an actual place with rent and everything. I pay my own phone bill and all. However, there is a small problem.

I've been stolen from, about 100 dollars of my last paycheck. And I have bills very soon. Scarily soon. So my friends have convinced me to set up a Ko-Fi account for anyone wanting to help out and donate a few dollars, and trust me, a few dollars can be the tipping point. If everyone who's put Kudos on this story donated three dollars, I'd be able to pay all of my upcoming bills and  _more._

Of course, you are far from required or necessarily being asked to donate. It's entirely up to you, and it's a good way for me to know people like what I do as well. You can leave messages if you donate, so if you'd like, I'm opening one-shot requests, so you can request a one-shot when you donate. 1,000 words minimum on them, too, so you're not going to be getting tiny little dabbles, either.

[Here's the link!!](https://ko-fi.com/A58330WH)

Anything would help! Hope to update soon, and thank you to everyone for your patience!!


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